


Game Over

by rainyskies



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Breakfast, College Student Stiles, Grinding, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:25:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6320023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainyskies/pseuds/rainyskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Stiles is a college student on residence and Derek arrives with breakfast spontaneously. One thing leads to another, and the two find themselves in a rather intimate position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game Over

It didn't feel like several hours had passed. Stiles was too immersed in his essay to realize the morning light, dimly shining through the shutters in the window of his small apartment. He was also too focused to bother answering his landlady, who was knocking on his door about his overdue pay almost every hour. Yawning and clearly exhausted, he stretched his stiff muscles, hearing a few satisfying cracks as he gathered his things together. 

Stiles was supposed to have left back to Beacon Hills for a get together with the pack, but he'd remembered his mid-term essay for Greek Mythology was due the following Monday. So of course, he called off for probably the fifth time this month. 

It was depressing to be so far from Scott and Lydia, who were both occupied with their own studies. Isaac had started helping Deaton as he had nowhere else to go, and quite frankly refused to continue his education, for reasons unknown to Stiles.

And though his dad, the sheriff, had nearly cried when Stiles left for college, Stiles made sure he'd throw out anything with even a drop of alcohol. But his dad and Scott's mom were getting along well, so his worries were put at rest.

Then there was the sourwolf. The sourwolf who did nothing but glare at Stiles the moment he caught his scent. The sourwolf that often told Stiles to shut up, but was always the first to understand his crazy theories. The sourwolf that persuaded Stiles that he was probably the most annoying creature to have walked on this planet, while breaking his back to save Stiles' ass. The sourwolf whose name was so hard to say, especially when he was standing in Stiles' doorway with what smelled like breakfast and coffee, eyes surprisingly glaring right down into Stiles'. 

Let’s just say, the sourwolf was quite consistent in contradicting himself.

"Did you always smell this bad?" Derek grunted, pushing his way into Stiles' apartment. "I swear you've gotten worse."

Derek was attempting to pull off his usual cold shoulder. He would often start off with domineering remarks at Stiles' scent. But it was hard to feel intimidated or even convinced when the guy brought breakfast at 6:00 am. Especially since his residence is an hour and a half away from Beacon Hills. Something was definitely off.

"God, I thought you were Bertha." Derek raised an eyebrow. "Never mind.” Derek walked into the dining room, setting down the bags as Stiles leaned at the kitchen door frame.

The morning light was now a compliment to Derek’s figure than an irritant to Stiles’ sleep-deprived eyes. The dim lighting from the shutters was now warm, complimenting Derek’s broad frame. It felt nice to have someone, especially Derek, warming up Stiles’ solemn apartment. Sure, a sense of solitude was perhaps nice in some ways, but Stiles didn’t need to go alone beyond the point of talking to the blandly colored walls.

“So, did you just happen to stumble upon breakfast for two and accidentally knock on my door?" Stiles grinned sarcastically. "Or did Derek Hale really travel a two hour commute for lil ol' me?" 

Derek met his grin with another glare and rolled his eyes. "It was an hour and thirty, so shut up. And this was Lydia's idea. She felt bad you wouldn't be able to make it. So don't take it the wrong way." 

"Sure because it's so easy to convince your stubborn wolf ass." Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes. But he didn’t continue to plough, pretending he didn’t know that Derek clearly came of mostly his own accord.  

And Derek pretended to have not heard him, ignoring Stiles as usual. He pulled out a croissant and stuffed his mouth rather mechanically. Clearly he was avoiding to converse with Stiles. Which would've been normal, if Derek hadn't commuted an hour and a half to get Stiles breakfast. 

It was a funny unconscious game the two would often play. Pretending not to hear the other, pretending to hate one another, to find the other annoying or irritating. And beneath this game, there was always a sense of understanding, of knowledge. A feeling of anticipation of what may be the other’s next move. Perhaps Stiles was reading too far into this comedic silence, but it was truly how he felt. He often wondered when the game would end, but also feared that perhaps it was a game he was playing on his own.

Stiles sat down across the table in front of Derek. He pulled out a breakfast bagel from the bag and began to slowly chew, his eyes not once looking away from Derek. How could it be that this sourwolf came all this way just to have breakfast with him? What exactly did Derek want? Was there more supernatural trouble back at Beacon Hills? Stiles was bound to find an answer, hopefully one he would like.

"If you got something to say spit it out." He glowered. Stiles was startled to be interrupted in his concentrated analysis of Derek, which was clearly leading him to no conclusion. He cleared his throat, setting down the bagel.

"I don't know, why all the sudden appearance with breakfast at my door? You in hiding or something?" Derek's ears began to color but Stiles continued. "I just can't figure out why exactly you're here."

"Look I told you-"

"Derek we both know that's bullshit," Stiles sighed then leaned in closer to Derek. His heart was pounding, pushing to find some sort of answer to Derek’s behavior. What really scared Stiles was not the confrontation, but the possible dead end to his hopeful curiosity. But nevertheless, he pushed forward. "Look if you're in trouble, I'll understand and I'll help."

"Stiles you don't-"

"I don't know anything, obviously, because you never tell me shit! Okay?" Derek's lips parted, clearly shocked by Stiles' sudden outburst. He was openly frustrated now, even though his eyes diverted down to Derek's lips for a split second, but nonetheless still pissed.

Yes, it may have seemed like an out-of-place tantrum, but it’s been eating away at him for months. Stiles always felt that despite Derek's hard attitude, they still had a level of trust and understanding with one another, had a presence between them that proved there was more to their bickering. Yet lately, there have been multiple times Stiles wouldn't be informed of certain danger, as if Stiles couldn't do anything about it, as if Stiles were incompetent, as if Derek had built a wall between them – as if Derek didn’t need Stiles.

"I know I can be annoying and I'm not strong like you, heck, I'm human! So technically I'm not even a part of this–"

And within a moment, Stiles found himself much closer to Derek than he was before. Too close for comfort if it were someone else, but Stiles was in a trance. A fist clenching the neck of his shirt, Stiles felt a wet softness on his lips, gentle but roughly passionate; more specifically another pair of lips. Attached to these lips was the person Stiles least expected, despite the fact that he was the only other person in the goddamn house.

As he pulled back, leaving a yearning throb in Stiles’ lips, Derek looked down at them almost hypnotically. He met with Stiles' confused eyes, quickly wearing the same sourwolf glare but this time, Stiles felt something else. It was a sad yet warm feeling, a hint of concern behind Derek's usual icy eyes but also with a tinge of satisfaction, of bliss. And Stiles didn't how to react, his mouth agape and eyes searching Derek's face for an answer. 

"You um... That, that was, you just," 

"Don't ever say that, alright?” Derek’s eyes seemed to burn into Stiles’, forcing the younger man to stare back. “You're a part of this pack, human or werewolf or whatever the hell you become." Leaning back in slowly, Derek's warm breath ghosted over Stiles' lips, a familiar blue gleam flickering in his eyes. "And yeah, I kissed you. Crazy, I know." 

"Wait wait wait, hold up!" Stiles pushed Derek back gently, Derek's gaze uncomfortably not breaking eye contact.

"Do you just kiss anyone? Is it like, like a pack initiation or something?" Derek groaned, exasperated as he collapsed back into his seat. Stiles regretted breaking Derek’s gaze and sudden confidence, but he wanted to make sure, to be absolutely certain that what Derek was doing was genuine. "Look, you, like, hate my guts; this is hard to take in! And why now? What exactly made you do that?"

"Jesus Stiles, will you quit interrogating me? Alright, yes I know this is seemingly random," Stiles cocked his head sarcastically as Derek continued, "Okay, very random.” Derek scratched the back of his neck nervously, practically crumbling under Stiles’ anticipating look. “There was just... Cora told me there was an omega spotted around your campus. An omega that specifically did not get along with Scott."

"So you thought it was coming for me and-"

"And I panicked and came here as soon as I could, okay? I was... Worried for you." Derek's ears colored once more to a bright red as he mumbled something, looking away. 

"What?"

"I said I don't hate you. So just, stop pushing me back." Derek tried glaring at Stiles but groaned, covering his face. "God, you talk too much. I can't do this, it's only like this with you. Fuck."

It was oddly amusing to see this seemingly ice cold man crumble into a mess of blushed ears and nervous groans. Stiles tried to bite his lip and not smile, but he was practically grinning like an idiot. 

Getting up, Stiles walked around the table and stood in front of Derek. He then outstretched his hands, beckoning Derek to stand up with him. Derek took Stiles' hands with a confused but interested look, his large callused fingers warm against Stiles' cold long hands, towering over the shorter man. 

"Well fuck, uh..." Clearly Stiles wasn't prepared to continue whatever he was planning. Maybe it was because he was nervous, or that Derek was much taller than Stiles had anticipated, but Stiles was completely frozen. His face was flushed to a red, contrasting with the moles that dotted his cheek and jawline. Stiles thought he could handle this, handle Derek. But Derek was clearly something – someone who was far out of Stiles’ comprehension. At least for now.

“I’m not really experienced with another dude I guess…” Stiles chuckled nervously.

Derek could get used to this, seeing the spastic teen clueless and lost was a rare sight. Sure he may have imagined Stiles to be this nervous, but never did Derek ever dream of an expression far more _satisfying_ than the one Derek would see Stiles wearing around Lydia. Derek felt stronger, confident, but most of all happy. He wanted to make Stiles feel safe and comfortable around him. To see the infinite range of emotions that could possibly stain the younger man’s soft face.

Derek felt almost privileged. That he could, for once, be the one to lead, to guide someone without having to worry about being hurt or mocked. It’s why Stiles was so attractive to Derek. Stiles was always laid back, malleable and accepting. Derek didn't mind taking the lead. In fact he preferred it – preferred to be the one to guide for once, so he leaned in to kiss Stiles again. 

Stiles’ lips cushioned against Derek’s as he reacted by planting a hand on Derek's waist, and another on his cheek, softly grazing at Derek's beard. Smiling into the kiss, Derek also held Stiles at his waist as his other free hand holding Stiles' cheek and brushing his fingertips softly through Stiles' hair. 

Stiles peeked through during the kiss, slightly opening his eyes to glance at Derek's face. Because even as Stiles was feeling the guy's lips, it wasn’t enough. He needed to capture Derek’s presence, somehow burn this moment, hoping it would last forever.

Pulling himself closer, Stiles slowly began to grind himself against Derek, their lips continuously dancing on one another. Derek’s heart sped up, slightly surprised but nonetheless excited as he sensually pushed himself against Stiles. It was odd, as if they both knew exactly what they had to do, as if they both had rehearsed it in their minds, over and over. 

And usually, Derek would have stopped. He would have never come out of his way to see someone else. Derek would have remembered Kate, and want not to feel anything at all. Usually, Derek would have pulled away first in a kiss, would have left whoever he was with, and maybe even should have. But through the kiss, every time Stiles pushed his lips against Derek, Derek felt his doubts disappearing, his questions being answered.

Usually, yes, Derek would have stopped. But this was Stiles. And Stiles was anything far from usual.

Stiles was different, always a mystery with his heightened heartbeat, pumping ten times faster now than it always would. It wasn't like Derek knew the exact rhythm of Stiles' heartbeat and it absolutely wasn’t that he couldn't get enough of Stiles' apparent stench. But it probably was. All Derek knew was that he needed to get closer to Stiles. His curiosity had transformed into an immediate need, a fervid desire to know what it felt like to be with Stiles. Or even inside him. 

And without thinking, Derek had now picked Stiles up off his feet and lay him down on the sofa, grinding a bit harder against his lean frame and taking in every fiber of Stiles' scent. His wolf was excited, taking in as much of Stiles’ air as it could, as if it had held back for what seemed like eons.

It was tantalizing, the way they kept their clothes on, only to grind, to simply graze the surface of something intimate that could happen. But it was also enjoyable, as if the longer Derek waited, the better they would both feel.

And as Derek pushed himself against Stiles, he expected the younger man to moan, to fall apart under Derek's touch. Stiles' lean figure almost made him seem delicate, fragile, and even ethereal, as if Derek could easily tear him apart. But Stiles kept coming back at him, stronger each time their teeth collided through the rough desperate kisses. With Stiles, Derek felt no need to hold back. He was unbound.

Pushing himself down onto Stiles, Derek then felt Stiles' lips suddenly pull away. Before he could protest and reach again for Stiles' lips, Derek felt rough kisses being planted along his jawline, trailing down to his neck. Stiles softly bit down and sucked, his teeth gnawing away to leave a fresh swollen hickey. The mark throbbed, resonating with the pulsing Derek could hear in his ears from his overly excited heart. The wolf inside him growled in pleasure, wanting to return the favor as Derek licked teasingly at Stiles’ pale dotted neck, slowly but firmly sucking to stain it with a vibrant bruise. 

Derek's eyes gleamed a vivid blue as he growled, pushing himself harder against Stiles in a sudden rush. A fear that Stiles would slip away was trying to surface its way in Derek's mind. But this fear was also mixed with ecstasy and, quite simply, a pure need for Stiles. He licked again at the other side of Stiles' neck and sucked once more, his hands carefully but firmly gripping Stiles' hips. And Stiles held him just as hard, erasing any fear Derek felt and feeding his lust. 

"Fuck, Derek, oh my fucking-" Stiles grunted, his fingers digging into Derek's shoulders as Derek kissed the throbbing hickey staining his neck. Stiles opened his eyes lazily, looking up into Derek's blue eyes, panting softly. 

"Are we doing this? Like taking it, you know, further? 'Cause I just want to know if you're absolutely sure about-"

"Fuck Stiles, yes I want this, I'm fucking melting.” Derek blushed as his voice slightly cracked as he then kissed Stiles’ amused grin. He then pulled away. “Do you?" There was a moment, a beat that seemed to be much longer.

Even at this point, Derek expected laughter to follow, for Stiles to show him a mocking smile. He expected Stiles to push him away, to leave Derek alone just as anyone else would have. He hated himself for it. But he was scared.

But Stiles simply answered with a smile. Not the usual cheeky grin he would often give Derek. Instead, he smiled through his eyes, dilated pupils reflecting to Derek all that mattered to Stiles in that moment.

And it was there again, the presence and silent knowledge that the two shared. It was a soft presence, a warm space that was waiting to be filled, but always left alone. Always carefully handled as if an alarm would blare if either of the two had broken it. Derek leaned in as Stiles was drawn in as well, the space now closed between the two with a rough kiss, something that probably should have been done ages ago. Whatever wall or space that existed between the two men had finally shattered. They were officially done pretending.

The two stumbled down to Stiles' bedroom in a cluster of kissing and unbuckling their belts. Stiles immediately pulled at Derek, his fingers tugging at the hem of Derek's boxers, grinning into his neck. As he was pulled towards the bed, his bulge was practically begging in pain to be let out. Derek shut the bedroom door and grinned into Stiles’ lips, ignoring the sound of the land lady's yelling that, luckily, Stiles couldn't hear. 

_The end._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this!
> 
> Sterek is my OTP, so if you think you'd like a tumblr blog like that, [here](http://littleredhoodedstiles.tumblr.com/) it is.
> 
> Also, if you have any advice for me, writing-wise, please don't be afraid to message me via tumblr!


End file.
